Avec Amour
by Boomity
Summary: Raoul and the Phantom make a deal; who will get the better end of it? Alternative Ending
1. A Prologue of Sorts

Hello, all. Yes, I'm still alive. Yes, I still read fanfiction occasionally. You haven't heard from me in over a year, so sorry! (My writer's block gets pretty nasty. And a lack of knowing where to go with my stories doesn't help.) But, here's my newest story, 'Avec Amour.' (If you're wondering, it translates from French into 'With Love.') Oh, and it's really annoying when this website deletes your parenthesis. Just though I'd throw that out there, since this story uses them frequently.

Let the drama begin.

***

Erik felt more like a child than ever, sitting and bawling his eyes out. The cymbal monkey sitting in front of him didn't help his emotions, as it clapped to the chorus of Masquerade. The events that had taken place seemed to shatter his heart, then stomp on little pieces until they were reduced to dust. He almost had to smirk: it sounded more like a dramatic poem than reality.

How could Christine choose that ignorant fool over him? How could he take away the only person who would ever understand what music meant to him? The only person on this Earth that could make him understand the concept of love? The entire world was against his being, and he was soon realizing that he was simply unlovable. He wished he could just end it all; he'd take the wrath of Hell over his current life.

Tip, tap, tip, tap. He recognized the noise to be footsteps outside the room. _Good, _he thought, _people. Kill me. Put a stop to my misery, just do it now and get it over with...  
_

He glanced behind - seeing his killer was his last, simple wish - and gasped.

"Christine," he whimpered under his breath.

Erik hastily wiped his eyes as she entered the room. It made no difference to him, but he had to check to see if he were hallucinating. Was this really the girl who had just left him in despair? There was no way, no chance, but there she was standing before him. It was surreal, to see her looking almost regretful of her choice. He got up from the chair, keeping his stare on her, afraid to look away. Once he was standing upright, another figure entered the room and grasped it's hand on her shoulder. It was Raoul.

Damn it all.

"What...?" he asked, staring at them both in utter confusion. Was this all a terrible dream? Was she back to torture some more, leaving him in an even larger pit of depression and self-hatred?

Christine started to open her mouth, but Raoul stopped her with his finger. "Sssh. Let me explain," he interrupted quickly, leaving his fiancée with a highly annoyed expression.

"Well, as you can see. Christine was... absolutely crushed to leave you." He spat out the words like venom, an obvious distaste for his lover's feelings. "And, I cannot have my _future bride_ in such a state. As much as it pains me to admit it, I think she may need to be near you at times, to be able to know that you will be all right. She feels that you are lonely." The Phantom could see the utter hatred in his eyes and features, and returned it with even more power.

"So, what are you saying?" Erik asked delicately, messing with his temper. "You are going to give me to her, like she's some kind of _plaything_?"

"Absolutely not," he barked in response. "I propose a..."

"Trade-off?" he offered.

"Well, yes, I suppose." Raoul wrinkled his nose.

He stared back. "Absurd."

"I'm so sorry, Christine, I love you with all my heart and know this must sound awful to you. This was, however, your idea, and I realized when you told me that you'd feel horrid if you left the Phantom all alone..." he trailed off hopelessly.

"It's okay, Raoul." She smiled, and her face seemed to have a new glow to it, brighter. Happier. She couldn't bring herself to choose between the two men, and this was, in a way, choosing both. This was the best of both worlds; to Christine and Christine alone.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "So, Raoul, explain to me the details of this _trade-off_." The added emphasis was not to be used for any other reason but than to anger him.

He balled his fists, as if he were ready to attack. "I am to have Christine to myself, without disturbance, every weekday. You may visither on the weekend. She will still marry me and be with me forever, but you can be her acquaintance. Deal?" He spoke quickly, hating every word of what he had said.

He stared as though it were the most obvious answer he could ever give. "Yes, deal. And, what do you mean by _visit_?"

Christine rolled her eyes, and could guess what thoughts were running through his sick mind.

"That means you are allowed to be with her under supervision"- she glared, and he threw his arms up hopelessly -"fine, alone, then. You can see her alone, but if you even so much as touch her or go near her, I swear your head would make a nice decoration on my wall."

Erik nodded barely, as the two men shook hands apprehensively. Raoul turned to Christine.

"Are you positive this will be good for you?"

She glanced to the Phantom, and back to him with a genuine smile. "Yes."

He nodded in what seemed to be defeat, and, taking his future bride by the hand, started to climb into the boat.

"It is Thursday today, Phantom, so you may see her in two days," he called behind him. "And, in that time, I suggest you put a stop to the fire going on upstairs. This is quite a nice opera house, and if you ever want to see Christine perform again..." He shrugged his shoulders, pushing off and down into the tunnel.

That was all that needed to be said, and Erik was preparing the water.

***

Yeah. I really would love to see Raoul dead, but Christine being trapped with the Phantom and miserable would be boring to write. Then again, you never know what's going to come up in future chapters.

Reviews and (helpful) criticism would be nice, please and thank you!


	2. Preparation

The first official chapter. It has received a massive overhaul along with the prologue, so I suggest you read it repeatedly until it is stuck in your brain and you are half dead from staring at the screen for so long.

Oh, I forgot a disclaimer last time, so here: I don't own any form of The Phantom of the Opera or anything, but I'd like to. Really, I would. (At least the Phantom.)

***

Friday was a busy day for everyone.

After a fitful night of sleep, the Phantom awoke early morning. The fire the day before was easy to put out - he simply emptied the water death trap into many buckets, and threw it into the flames. The opera was, however, still a mess. _It can all be fixed with a bit of effort_, he thought optimistically.

That was one change he noticed about himself in the past few hours; he was more optimistic. He did not see this lasting long, but he rode the small wave of joy for however long it would last. His situation was not as it's best, but given the circumstances, what he got was lucky, right? Right.

It could be better, and he knew that. He could have stuck a dagger through that moronic boy's heart and had her for his own, but he knew what would come next. She would be miserable, and he couldn't bear to see her like that. Miserable with him. And, even being able to see her on the weekends, he knew their relationship could not go past that of a friend's, for Raoul would have him dead.

Then again... he'd die a happy man.

--

It was early in day, around 10 A.M.

"I'm depressed," Raoul moaned dramatically, leaning forward in his seat in the front row of the trashed opera house. They had just finished fixing part of the stage, and were taking a break with the rest of the temporary construction workers.

"Why is that?" Christine asked, sitting next to her fiancé, patting his back in what was an attempt at comfort.

"I think you know why. Are you sure you want this?" he asked for what was possibly the millionth time.

"Yes. I am."

After a few seconds of silence, he stared at her, a serious look in his eyes. "Are you in love with him?" he asked delicately, sounding as if he were afraid of the answer.

"I... don't know," she breathed. He put his head in his hands, even if he were expecting worse. "I don't think I am, but at the same time, he's my angel of music."

"Do you _have _to call him that?" the grumpy man moaned. "Can you not just call him bastard of music, for me?"

She rolled her eyes, and rose up from the chair, slightly offended. "I think we need to get back to work."

--

Hours passed, and it was now nightfall. Even living in darkness, the Phantom was usually aware of what time of day it was, and he had to admit he was excited. Tomorrow was the day, the day he could see her alone, without threat of being murdered. If everything were to go well, that is.

Some of his time that day was spent cleaning parts of the dungeon. It was clean enough already, but he wanted everything to be perfect for her.

The rest, however, was spent practicing and composing music. She needed a song, that came from the heart. This was harder than it would seem. What was left of his heart wasn't much, and he hadn't ever known true love, except for now. Maybe, with time, his heart would grow into something more caring. But, for now, it was mostly bottling up unused anger and despair.

In exhaustion, he finally gave up. He would wait until later to give her a song. For now, he'd settle for a song that had already been performed. One of his favorites, and he was aware already that she sang it beautifully. That was one of the many things that captivated him about her: her angelic voice. Hearing it was enough to bring him back out of whatever despair he was in.

_You alone can make my song take flight..._

Erik hopped into bed - the special bed that his Christine had slept in one night - and wished sleep would come faster than it did.

--

Raoul woke up in a cold sweat. A nightmare had woken him up, and it was possibly the most disturbing thing he had ever dreamt.

He was already forgetting it, but what was intact in his mind was the Phantom kidnapping Christine and never coming back, leaving him alone for the rest of his life, missing his love until his slow death...

He shook his head, as if to get the image out of his brain. This would never happen, and he would make sure of it. Christine was still sleeping sounding beside him, in total peace, and that give him a small amount of comfort. This deal would not be broken. She was to be his bride soon, and all was well.

Even though she would not be completely happy with her life, he wished he could keep her for his own, every single day. He did not want to deal with the concept of 'sharing.'

***

Yay for having actual inspiration to continue writing this story! :D Really, honestly, Raoul needs to die. But this story's theme is too happy-joyful to kill him off. Maybe. He's a selfish dude, though, so maybe he'll be randomly hit with a dart in the forehead. That would be awesome.


	3. Saturday

Yeah, I don't know. This chapter took longer than the other two to write, but that's what happens when you're brain-ded from pictures of Gerry Butler and-

okay, enough with the excuses (even if they are really good ones.)

***

Thank God for Saturday.

Erik had woken up at the crack of dawn. He had a feeling that he needed to finish something, but what?

He rushed around the cave in a frenzy, not quite sure of what to do. He felt very off today, as if he had woken from a bad dream that he didn't quite remember. Why did he feel the need to prepare for Christine as much as he was trying to? There was nothing left to be done. He had learned the hard way that the dungeon would remain at it's creepiest state no matter what was added - or taken away - from it. And yet, he couldn't stop the long line of thoughts rushing through his head.

_What to play for her, what to clean up, what to wear..._

Wait. What to _wear_? That was a question he had never thought of or asked himself, maybe not once in his entire life. Maybe, just maybe, he had officially gone insane.

"Christ, I'm wasting my time," he said out loud to no one in particular, and sat down to take a breath.

He glanced over at the many paintings and drawings of Christine - a shrine, really - that were hanging on his wall. He knew for the first time, now for sure; he couldn't mess this up. Or, at least, be caught messing this up.

--

It was noon, and it was time for the 'pass-over'.

Erik stood at the edge of the dungeon, waiting for his only love to appear. He had to admit to himself that he did feel a slight bit of excitement inside of him. The only thing that would make it better would be that love-stealing bastard hanging from a noose above the stage (but that could wait, couldn't it?)

He smiled to himself mischievously. He'd need a more thought-out, better formulated plan for his death, anyway...

The familiar boat slowly drifted down the tunnel, then into view of the room. Raoul was with her. Naturally.

Both men offered to help her out and onto land, but she took the Phantom's hand, causing Raoul to glare at her (the Phantom didn't know why, since it wasn't her fault she preferred him, of course.)

"It seems we must now part," Raoul said, and kissed the young girl on the hand while glowering at him. Erik felt sick to his stomach by this display of 'love'. "Only for two days. And if this man ever touches you, goes _near_ you, you let me know immediately and it will be sto-"

Erik swayed to his left suddenly - yet subtlety, into the other man. He knocked him off the shore and into the water with ease.

_Oops, what an 'accident._'

Christine narrowed her eyes at him, as if it were a warning.

He gasped theatrically. "Oh, was that _me_? So sorry." He offered a hand to the now-soaked Raoul, and he took it with a bit of resistance, and anger.

"Remember our deal," he growled, getting into the boat (which nearly toppled over, much to the Phantom's amusement.)

"I will." He hoped he didn't notice the hint of insincerity in his voice as he rowed off into the tunnel leading to the outside world.

He glanced at the beautiful girl before him, and balled his fists. She was staring at the empty tunnel with a sort of longing with a wistful expression, as if she didn't want to be here. Wasn't this insane deal her idea in the first place? And, if not, did she not agree to it?

_Stop your rage before it really begins. Don't hurt her; you'll only be hurting yourself..._

She turned to him, and upon seeing his anger, shrunk back, now with a frightened expression.

_Damn._

He forcefully made himself calm, softening his expression at the poor girl. He wasn't used to doing this, and knew it probably would frighten her further to see him struggle to do so. He didn't bother to smile, thinking of the many failed reactions it could bring.

"Alone at last." His voice was relieved, though he did not feel the same relief inside of him. _The bastard is still with her_, he recalled bitterly.

"Yes," Christine agreed. She opened her mouth, but clamped it shut after a moment, looking at him with a hint of sadness.

"What is it, my dear?" He raised his hand to hold hers, but stopped, letting it hang there until it fell to his side. The deal wasn't meant to be broken. _Not yet._

She smiled nervously. "I have a few questions for you."

***

Oooh. Slight cliffhanger, much? I'll guess you'll just _have_ to stay tuned to find out.

(And yes, that was an obvious way of saying 'you MUST keep reading this or you will never know'. Shut up.)

I really don't have much planned for this story, at least not a lot of it. And yet, Raoul is still alive. I apologize profoundly for that.


	4. Anger Management

Note to self: do not pantomime being punjabbed during Spanish class. It will not end well. XD

And, yes, I really did try this. The teacher thought I was trying to choke myself to death.

I really should've looked at her and simply said "It's a Phantom thing. You wouldn't get it."

(Because it's true.)

Uuh, sorry for this taking forever. My computer es spedshul and usually shuts down on itself. I think I might be getting a WORKING computer for my birthday (Saturday), so normal update times should begin then.

And now that the entire Spanish class thinks I'm suicidal, here is your next chapter.

***

Few minutes passed, with the two glancing around the room whimsically. Memories, bad and good, drifted through their minds.

It was not long before Erik was at the piano, playing a melody that was supposed to have ended Don Juan Triumphant. That, obviously, did not happen.

Christine sat gently down next to him on the piano bench. He stopped and turned to face her, a questioning look on his face. She was looking down at the keys, not knowing how to begin the conversation. One wrong word, and it was her head. Or Raoul's.

"What is it, dear? What are your questions?" He sensed that she wasn't quite herself, and was right.

"Raoul told me your story, and..." She shivered, recalling him telling the tale of the gypsies torturing the poor soul who sat before her, as if it were his fault he were deformed. She knew better to realize that it wasn't. He was a victim, and just that; none of this should have happened to him. "I want to know more."

"_What_?"

She tensed; she should've known better than to be curious. _Please don't be angry, please don't be angry, please don't be angry..._

"How did he find out?" the Phantom inquired, voice quivering. He had to control his fury, for her sake. He could break her neck with two fingers, and that terrified him; he did not want to harm her. But, she was testing him, and he could feel it.

"I-I don't know, honestly. He just told me the story, that is all."

"What do you mean, that's all?!" Erik snapped at once. "How in the hell does he know? Do I have a public record?!"

He took a deep breath, glowering at the poor girl who sat before him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I, I just..."

Christine clamped her mouth shut as the Phantom stood up and marched to the other side of the room, deep in frenzied thought.

"I could kill him," he muttered deeply. "I could just kill him right now."

She gasped out loud. "No!" she shrieked, standing up from the bench, tears flowing from her eyes. "Please, don't harm him! If you want to hurt anyone, hurt me. It's my fault!"

"I knew this would never work," he stated calmly. The beginnings of a rage trip were brewing in his body, and he felt it. Worst of all; it was uncontrollable. "I knew it. That filthy bastard knows who I am now, and he'll never let you see me again. Ever. Do you understand?"

Christine sobbed quietly as the Phantom continued his rant, still standing in place next to the bench.

"Aren't you scared of my story yourself, poor girl? Little worthless boy, beaten by gypsies, for a simple facial deformity! Aren't you scared of the _psychological affect _it must have on me, at every waking hour?"

She shook her head, hoping it would all end and that this was just one of Erik's many episodes. _Maybe he'll be back to normal tonight._

"No, really? Hah! Admit it, you are terrified of me. You are as scared of me as I am scared of myself. Don't you know I could kill anyone, at any time? You? Your fiancé?" He smirked, now in his own form of dark humor, prancing around the cave. "Madame Giry, the managers, Carlotta... dead, dead, dead!"

He stopped moving, and grinned wickedly at the girl.

"Your simple-minded fop would be easiest, you know. Punjab lasso over his head, and tah-dah! Dead! Taken down as simply as a moose in heat!" He laughed heartily, causing Christine to jump.

"I cannot say I'd ever lay my hands on any of them, but you never know, do you?"

She stood motionless, feet planted firmly on the stone ground, arms wrapped around herself.

"Well, I've had my fun. Why are crying, dear? Do you think I'm going to kill you?"

The knowledge of what he was capable of doing sent her into a shock.

"Please, don't be afraid. I would never harm you, you realize that? No, I'd protect you from the evils of the world, just as Madame Giry did for me."

"But..." Christine's voice was barely audible. She mumbled an incoherent sentence, staring intently at Erik, the expression of horror not leaving her face.

"Speak up, dear."

"You said that y-you could kill me. You could kill me and everyone I know...." she trailed off, and turned completely away, shaking. The Phantom was unable to see her face.

"Yes, of course I _could _kill you. That's not the point, though, is it?" He approached her slowly from behind, and held her tight against her body, his strong arms wrapped around her stomach.

"The point is, Christine, I wouldn't kill you. You understand?" he whispered in her ear. "I could, yes, very easily... but I would never."

Christine nodded her head, and finally turned to face him. The tears had faded, leaving a stained trail on her face.

"What about Raoul?"

There was no reply, and a eerie, heavy silence filled the cave.

---

Bwahaha, I'm such an ebil person. I realize that Raoul is still alive. Again, sorry. I know we all want him to die ASAP, but I still have no idea where I'm going with this story. :D

Judging by the last four or so lines, it's not lookin' so good for him.

(As you probably noticed, Erik pranced earlier in the chapter. Realize that this is a manly, sexy prance, not a gay one. A gay one like Raoul.)


	5. All I Ask of You

I just finished Phantom by Susan Kay – it's an amazing book. Read it, now. Or else.

All I'm going to say of it is that the Phantom needs a jar the size of a minivan.

...Congratulations if you got that! Onto the dramatic chapter.

***

Christine stood as still as stone, eyes fixated on the crazed man before her. She wanted to yell, to scream for him to not even consider killing her future husband, but it was much too late. She saw all too well the calculating look in his unfocused eyes; already plotting the death of him. Thinking over the risks and the best way to do it. The damage was done.

The Phantom now stared directly at her, causing the poor girl to nearly collapse of fear; not for her own health, but for her lover's.

"He doesn't love you, you know."

"What? Of course he does!" Christine wasn't expecting him to say something – especially of that manner - and immediately replied in defense.

"How could he? He traded you off like a plaything – and what benefit does it hold for him? Nothing. Poor fool, poor little bastard. He's going to get what is coming to him for treating you as such!"

"He only did that because I asked it to be done!"

"And you believe that? Poor, ignorant girl. It seems you have much still to learn."

"_Excuse me_?" she shrieked in protest.

Erik continued on as if she hadn't said a word, now pacing around the room.

"He let you stay down here in a cave, with a killer. All by yourself with no one to save you. What could have possibly been on his mind when he did this? Alone, with a maniac who could erupt at any time and kill anyone, anything. No pattern to his brutal murders, no one able to escape his wrath. The deserving, the innocent, and all for what? Nothing. Not pleasure, not self-defense. Absolutely nothing..."

Forgetting the anger that boiled inside of her, she finally realized the amount of self-loathing he possessed, and the tears begin brimming in her eyes fasting than she realized how bad she felt. She had always felt a pity for him, deeper in her heart, but now it had welled to incredible size and was ready to explode. At the most horrible of times, also; locked in an argument of her fiancé's love for her.

_I have to focus on Raoul. Have to focus, I can think about this later..._

There was one final way to keep Raoul alive now, or at least prolong his life; rambling.

"That is not true, Erik." She spoke in a soft voice, barely audible. "I think he knows that you would never kill me. I wasn't sure always, but I am quite sure now. You may have killed many before, but you are a lost soul. You can't help it."

He turned away from her, facing the organ with a strange longing. If he could only play it, drown her out voice for as long as he could with music. He didn't have time for this, but he had to admit it was quite distracting. Letting his stubbornness fall for a while couldn't do any damage, could it? He could spare some time to listen. _There's all the time in the world to kill a mindless fop._

"It's not your fault; you are not to blame for your life Not God, or your mother, or you. It is no one's fault. Do you understand that?"

He tensed noticeably, but she kept going, nearly unable to stop, her words jumbled together through her shaking voice. _Why is she saying this? She couldn't even begin to understand what I've been through. _

"You've made mistakes, but we all have, haven't we? Your mistakes are justified. No, it's not right to kill people, but what can be done about it? It's all done and over with. You are forgiven. But, what I want is for you to forgive the world. It's a lot, I can understand it. But you need to at least try, if nothing else. Can you do that for me?"

"You are asking me to forgive the world for what it has made me? All these years, and just now, in this singular moment?" The Phantom's voice contained an amount of mockery at her absurd request.

"Just now."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. I need time."

"You don't need it. Erik... that's all I ask of you."

The familiar words rang like an alarm bell in his head, and the emotion he had tried so hard to conceal burst from him in no way he could hide. His fists clenched so hard his nails dug into the skin, and his temper was ignited in a way it never was before. _Foolish child! _ He had worked so hard these past seconds putting out the flame, and she was the one to pour the gasoline...

Surely he would kill her if he did not leave immediately. The murderous instinct took over his body, making it tremble with intense anger. The whole time she spoke, he'd had brutal images of Raoul implanted in the back of his brain, and they were brought forward now in blinding clarity. _Helpless child, really – he should have known better to stay away from me! _

The jealously inside him burned, and there was only one man who brought it on. There was a single way to fix this, and though he admitted it was not pretty, it was necessary.

"Stay here," Erik muttered hoarsely under his breath. He stormed up the stairs with increble speed and determination, leaving Christine quite literally in a trail of his dust. He had one thing to do, and it was going to be done – _now._

_***_

Oh, snapple.

What have we learned, children?

- Do not ramble.

- Don't accidentally use lyrics from Phantom of the Opera songs.

- Do not be named 'Raoul.'

- And most importantly, **do not make Phantom angry!**


	6. Phantom's Revenge

Everyone blew up.

crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap

crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap

crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap crap

The end.


End file.
